


Eating In

by singagainsoon



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Hermann Gottlieb, M/M, Massage, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, it's what he deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singagainsoon/pseuds/singagainsoon
Summary: It really was supposed to be just a massage.





	Eating In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cajynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cajynn/gifts), [buckgaybarnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/gifts).



“Herm, just relax, okay? Look, I know what I’m doing. I was up all last night watching, like, a shit-ton of YouTube videos about this, and I  _ think _ that qualifies me.”

Hermann arches an eyebrow and studies Newton’s exasperated face. His lips are set in a hard line, feigning an all-business expression. He has neglected to shave for longer than usual, and Hermann does not miss the way his myriad freckles disappear into the week-old scruff that covers his jaw. He folds his arms across his chest.

“Oh, you ‘think’, do you? This is my health at risk here, Newton, and I-”

“Look, just- Get your ass up here and let me try, alright? If I suck at massages, then I suck at massages, and we’ll call it quits, okay?”

He sighs and sets his cane against Newton’s overstuffed dresser, taking a reluctant step in the direction of the bed. A massage admittedly does not sound entirely unappealing, and Newton has had the foresight to put the good sheets on the too-flat mattress. Hermann is flattered, truthfully. Newt cannot possibly manage to cause Hermann further pain, he reasons, and he tugs Newton’s borrowed t-shirt over his head. He feels the intensity of Newton’s gaze on him, on the lines of his shirtless torso, but Hermann does not meet his eyes. It still embarrasses him, just a little, to be the blessed object of Newton’s unrelenting affections. It should not, really, after all these months, but it does. The warmth that puddles deep in the pit of his fluttering stomach when Newton looks at him is nothing new, of course, but the physical manifestations of that love returned are still unfamiliar, in a way. 

He eases himself Good Leg First onto Newton’s mattress with a grunt and stretches out on his stomach. His heart pounds hard against his chest, a solid  _ thump _ that Hermann cannot reason away. He pulls some of Newton’s pillows close and folds his arms over them. The air is quiet with the almost-peacefulness that lingers in their space after a long day of packing up the lab, of finalizing research, of filing paperwork to secure themselves an apartment all their own. They are a good kind of tired.

“Are you sure about this, Newton?” Hermann hazards a glance over his shoulder, catching sight of Newton’s crooked grin as he flips open the cap on a bottle of lotion. The bottle makes an obscene squelching sound when he squeezes a generous amount into his hand. He rubs his hands together.

“Of course I am! I don’t wanna see you hurt, I really don’t, and - here, just lay flat, Herm, there you go - if I can do anything to help you, I’m going to. Okay?”

He watches Hermann expectantly, hands slick and shining with whatever unscented lotion he’s slathered them with. Hermann swallows thickly, nods his head once. “Okay.”

The instant Newton’s hands make contact with his bare skin, Hermann feels his muscles stiffen beneath Newt’s palms. The lotion is cold, slick and silky as Newton's hands glide smoothly over his back and up again. He has no reason to be so wound up, and he knows this with an undeniable certainty, but Hermann cannot help himself. The slightest touch is enough to get him going, and he loathes that he is so unfortunately sensitive. Newt gives Hermann’s rigid shoulders a squeeze that Hermann supposes is meant to be reassuring, places a firm kiss on Hermann’s shoulder.

“Relax, butternut,” he teases, and Hermann’s nose wrinkles in distaste at Newton’s strange choice in nicknames. He takes a too-deep breath and settles his head atop the fold of his arms. “Massages are supposed to be relaxing.”

Massages are, indeed, supposed to be relaxing, though Hermann finds it difficult to "relax" when all the blood that ought to be flowing to his head is rushing instead to pool hot and urgent between his thighs. Somewhere down the hall, he hears someone open their door, shut it again. Even in Newton's air-conditioned quarters, he feels warm beneath his skin. Newton rubs his hands along Hermann’s back, applying pressure to the hard, persistent knots in his muscles, the calluses on his fingers scratching him lightly. He pauses on Hermann’s slender waist, just above the angular jut of his hips. Hermann bites down hard on his lip, cracks the dry skin there a little.

“You work too hard,” Newton murmurs, tracing methodical patterns in his skin. There is something about his voice, low and reassuring and absent minded, that arouses him. Hermann closes his eyes, fights to ignore how nice the cool sheets feel on his naked torso, how easy it would be to just shift his hips a little and generate some much-needed friction. It is entirely inappropriate, he thinks, though it only serves to excite him more.

Newton’s thumbs dip just beneath the waistband of Hermann’s flannel pajama pants, rubbing tiny circles into the dimples stamped into the small of his back. Newton loves them, still takes the time to marvel at them. Hermann bites back a breathy sigh. Newton had not been exaggerating the benefits of massages; but surely, Newton is aware of what he is doing to him, what he has done, what he is pressing forward to do. Hermann’s nerve endings tingle, fritzing like a live wire, and he tilts his back  _ just-so _ , lifting himself as much into Newton’s insistent touch as he can manage without appearing too assumptive. He can only hope Newton will get the hint, as it were, but he only smooths his hands back up the length of Hermann’s spine to knead at his broad shoulders. He drags them back down once more, thumbs pressing insistently into the notches of his spine. Newton must know, surely, that Hermann is rock-hard. He must be aware that Hermann is fighting the burning urge to rut into the mattress, to pull his cock from where it stands stiff against his stomach, straining against his elastic waistband, and give himself a few, quick strokes. He must know that, mustn’t he?

Newton slips his hands lower, pushing Hermann’s pants down his hips as he goes, and kneads gently at Hermann’s sore back. He bites down on his lip hard to keep from crying out at the friction of the fabric brushing against his throbbing erection. There is something thrilling about lying here like this, vulnerable and exposed, that has his heart racing. He feels like a tart, though the thought excites him rather than repulsing him the way it might have before. Hermann thinks for a brief moment that he might have a heart attack. Newt presses the heels of his hands into the stiff angles of Hermann’s hips, and Hermann cannot keep from arching into his touch. Newt tightens his grip, almost possessive.

“Herm, honey,” Newt mutters, voice coming soft and breathy and vaguely pleading, but he does not finish and leaves Hermann’s name hanging in the air between them. He knows, he knows, he _ knows _ . Whether he felt the buzz of Hermann’s excitement reverberating along their neural link or whether Hermann had been a good deal less discreet than he’d hoped, Newton has picked up on it. Hermann allows the tiniest moan to slip past his lips at the feeling of Newton’s palms rubbing over the soft skin of his ass, over his trembling thighs, back up again. “Can I…?”

“Can you what?” Hermann will consent to anything, absolutely anything Newton wants, and he knows it; but hearing Newton  _ say it _ , his voice low, lights a fire between his thighs.

“Can I eat you out?” 

Hermann flushes, hot red blotches blooming steadily across his face and his chest and his neck, but he looks back at Newton over his shoulder. His eyes are half-lidded, and Hermann is sure that he, himself, must look near-sick with the dizzying prospect of pleasure. His dick aches, gives a hard throb at Newton’s hungry gaze. “Yes.”

Newton wastes no precious time shimmying Hermann out of his garishly-printed tartan pajama bottoms, tucking a spare pillow beneath Hermann’s knee, steadying him when he lifts himself a bit too quickly and sways just a little. He is eager, yes, and for once, shamelessly so; Newton spreads his legs gently, carefully, and Hermann finds himself having to bite back an unbidden whine. The mattress dips as Newton settles himself between Hermann’s parted legs, leans forward to press himself against Hermann’s back. His hips slot easily into the angle of Hermann’s upward-tilted ass, the insistent ridge of Newton’s own erection nudging him through the strained fabric of his pants. Hermann shivers beneath him, tilts his head to one side to allow Newton to press a kiss to the hot flush that has crept steadily to his ears and settled there. Newton noses against the vulnerable fluttering of his frantic pulse. Hermann thinks he might burst right then and there, still untouched, but he does not. It is frightening, a little, in the way that Hermann assumes a roller coaster might perhaps be frightening: new and exciting, thrilling, terrifying. That was, after all, the appeal, wasn't it?

“Hermann,” Newton breathes, near-reverent, and the mere sound of it makes Hermann’s cock twitch. He nips teasingly at the soft flesh of Hermann’s earlobe, the little scar where Hermann had briefly entertained an earring in college, no doubt relishing in the surprised sound that springs from Hermann’s lips. His hand smooths a path down Hermann’s chest, over his nipples and back up to his neck, his shoulders. Hermann is already leaking steadily, the hot slick of precome dribbling from his tip and onto his stomach. “Relax, okay?”

Hermann nods, though it is a feat most certainly easier said than done. Everything feels exaggerated, hazed out with pleasure and blurred like staring though a frosted glass window pane. Newton drags his hands down along Hermann’s sides, over the shape of his xylophone rib cage, down along his hips, peppering his skin in feather-soft kisses all the way down to the delicate dip in his back. Hermann buries his face in the pillow, clutching at the sheets in search of an anchor with his other hand. Newton’s hands knead gently at the soft span of Hermann's quivering thighs, pushing them just a little further apart, and Hermann inhales sharply, catching a whiff of Newton’s shampoo lingering on the pillow. 

Newton’s pink lips dust a spattering of kisses across Hermann’s ass, and Hermann momentarily considers slipping his hand between his thighs to stroke himself - just a few times, just enough to bring a bit of well-deserved relief; but it is then that Newton bites down, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to wrench a keening whine from the very back of Hermann’s throat. His hand squeezes Hermann’s other cheek, almost reassuring, and he licks a wet stripe over the spot he bit. When Newton’s teeth graze another patch of flesh, a bit further up, Hermann’s hips buck forward involuntarily. He moans, muffled into the pillow beneath his head, and urges Newton on. 

Newt pauses mid-kiss, and Hermann feels him lean away. Before he can muster up the strength to twist his neck and investigate, to scold Newton into returning to his position. Newton’s careful hands pull his ass cheeks apart. His breath hitches in his nervous chest, and he stills. He has never done this before, only ever very momentarily harbored the brief fantasy of it. Between Hermann’s unsteady knees, the mattress shifts. The anticipation is nearly too much for him, and Newton’s warm breath against his entrance alone prompts him to groan. 

“It’s okay, Hermann- It’s gonna be good, alright? So,  _ so _ good, and if you want me to stop-”

“I want you to stop  _ talking _ , Newton, and -  _ oh _ !”

Newt presses a kiss just above his asshole, soft and gentle and almost  _ chaste _ , though the word in this association is near-enough to make Hermann chuckle. He inhales sharply, hissing through gritted teeth that he’d not noticed he was gritting. He kisses him again. Newt plunges forward, brave, grazing his tongue teasingly slow across his hole, and the sound that comes strangled from deep in the back of Hermann’s throat is foreign even to his own ears. He had not known he had it in him to be so loud, so positively obscene, and Hermann has to admit that he quite likes to hear himself.

“Oh,  _ Newton _ -” He whines, twisting the sheet in his grip, and comes with a grunt over the fresh sheets. He had meant to hold off, to keep himself from coming so soon, but it is too much, too good, and he is unable to stop, hips stuttering. Newton lifts his head, and Hermann cannot keep himself from babbling, still achingly hard and trembling like a leaf through his premature orgasm. “No, no, keep going, darling,  _ please. _ ”

Newton seems more than happy to oblige, pulling Hermann’s cheeks further apart and licking again. It is strange and  _ good _ and unlike anything Hermann could have imagined, and he finds it altogether difficult to keep his eyes open when there are tiny white stars shooting in every possible direction behind them. Newt tilts his head, the stubble spattering his face scratching not unpleasantly, and drags his tongue once more over his hole. Hermann gasps sharply, hips jerking forward, and lets his legs slide open further, presenting himself to Newton. He licks urgently, insistently, and curls his tongue. This time, it is Newton who moans, muffled between Hermann’s cheeks. He licks again, prods at Hermann with the tip of his tongue before pressing in past the ring of muscle. 

“Newton, darling, oh- that’s-” His toes curl, and his long fingers scrabble at the twist of the sheets. Newt pulls out with a wet, sloppy sound and licks him again.

“Is it good, Hermann? Do you feel good? Tell me it’s good, Herm, tell me,” Newton urges, breathy and whining, his words cool against the saliva slicking Hermann’s rim. He presses his face back into the cleft of Hermann’s ass, dips further with his tongue, and though it is not enough to satisfy the bottomless hunger that has opened itself like the maw of a black hole in the pit of Hermann’s stomach, he shouts. 

“Yes- oh, _ yes _ ,  _ liebling _ ,” he pants, struggling to form the words when Newton resumes fucking him with his tongue, wet and sloppy and  _ filthy _ . It curls inside him, uncurls, thrusts, and Hermann wonders somewhere in the back of his pleasure-hazed mind if Newton’s jaw is sore. “Yes, yes, it’s so good, Newton- you’re so good.”   
  
Newt moans this time, the sound of it seeming to reverberate inside Hermann, and he whimpers. Perhaps Hermann comes again, he is not entirely sure, but his cock still throbs, wanting. It hurts. He does not have much time to consider it before Newton gives his cheeks a hard squeeze and decides to  _ suck _ , sending Hermann into a frenzy, babbling and moaning and writhing beneath Newton’s stocky strength. Saliva dribbles down Newton’s chin, onto Hermann’s ass, drips sticky down the back of his thigh.

“Please-  _ please _ , Newton,” he keens, only pausing to shriek when Newton pulls away from him again, traces a teasing finger around Hermann’s slick, pliant rim. His vision swims. “ _ Gott!  _ Yes-”

Newt’s finger pushes in easily, and Hermann rocks back against its thrusting length, perhaps a bit too hard. He intends to lavish Newton with the highest of praises, with accolades and fanfare, but all that comes tumbling from his mouth is a high-pitched whine that breaks in the middle, falls flat and plaintive. Newton moans, pulls his finger from inside Hermann to swipe his tongue over him again. “Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” he mutters, as though he’s the one lying prone and having  _ his _ ass ravished, and squeezes two fingers into Hermann. He accepts them with a yelp, arching up into the sparks that shoot up his spine and straight to the still-leaking head of his flushed cock. His voice will be hoarse for hours afterwards, perhaps the remainder of the day, even, but it does nothing to deter Hermann from shouting Newton’s name when he curls his fingers inside him. Newton pulls them out again, though Hermann has no time to vocalize his disappointment at the loss of them before he feel both fingers prodding him once more, Newton’s tongue wet and flicking alongside them.

Newt works him open the rest of the way with very minimal effort, angling his fingers  _ just right _ , curling and uncurling them in tandem with his tongue. He digs the nails of his free hand into Hermann’s asscheek, pressing little crescent moon shapes into the pale skin. Newton thrusts furiously, wriggles his tongue, egged on by the rising pitch of Hermann’s voice, a stream-of-consciousness mess of “oh”s and “mmm”s and yelps that sound like they could be Newton’s name. 

“I’m close, Newt, please,” he begs, prompting Newton to slide his hand from Hermann’s cheek. He reaches between Hermann’s raised hips, his sweetly parted thighs, and nudges up just behind his balls and rubs gently. Hermann begs, a keening, pitiful whine, and Newton deigns to take him mercifully in his hand. He wants it, wants whatever Newton will give him, wants nothing with the white-hot burning with which he wants Newton. He has always wanted Newton that way; the only difference now, is that he can have him. Hermann cries out, rutting desperately into Newt’s hot, tight grip. “Oh,  _ oh _ -” 

He is well aware of how he must look, pupils blown and crazed with the overwhelming pleasure that courses through his body like adrenaline, sweat springing in beads to his forehead and across his body; but he is  _ so close _ at long last. Newton strokes him, his thumb swiping across his tip, and Hermann can take it no longer. His head drops heavily onto the pillow. He comes hard a third and final time, clenching tightly around Newton’s fingers, his tongue, and Newt fingers him through the quaking aftershocks. Hermann pants breathlessly, body heaving with exertion. He opens his eyes only to still see little flashes of white obscuring his vision. Newton pulls both fingers and his tongue from him with a lewd, wet  _ pop _ . Hermann vaguely registers the shift of the mattress between his far-spread legs. He turns his head with the intention of saying something in the way of “thank you, darling, for the fantastic ass fucking,” but he stops short. 

Newton, mouth glistening obscenely, lips red as sin, tosses his underwear aside but makes no move to touch himself. The sight of him, erection as flushed as his beloved face, standing out against the colorful swirls that disappear into his neatly trimmed pubic hair, makes Hermann’s own dick twitch painfully against his leg in spite of the fact that he has nothing left. Newt has no right to kneel there, looking like that. 

“You okay, Herm?” He leans forward sweetly, pressing a series of kisses against his back. Hermann nods, utters a small moan at the feeling of Newton’s rock-hard cock brushing against the curve of his ass. He's going to be terribly sore in the morning. Newton rubs his hands over Hermann’s ass lovingly, no doubt admiring him, and Hermann hears him swallow the beginnings of a moan. “Ah- God, Herm, I need to- can I fuck you?”

Hermann nods his head, offers a feeble groan in the way of encouraging consent, and lifts his ass up a bit further. Newton holds his hips steady with one hand, presses the tip of his cock against Hermann’s loose rim. He slides in with little resistance, coating Hermann’s still-slick asshole in precome. Hermann wants to spurn him on, but he only whimpers. Newton pushes forward, bottoming out and swearing loudly.

“Fuck, Hermann, oh  _ jesus _ , dude,” he says, rolling his hips. Hermann sighs. He will never tire of the way Newton feels inside him, not particularly of any impressive size but perfect for Hermann, even after he is long-spent and blissed-out across the sheets as he is now. Newton thrusts once, twice, stretching him. “Oh my god- oh, Herm, I’m gonna come-” 

Newt comes before he can slam himself roughly back into Hermann all the way, twitching inside him and filling him with semen. Hermann moans, a bit surprised, and Newton’s hips jerk against him. His skin is soft, burning, and Hermann loves him. Newt’s familiar weight is not unwelcome when he collapses atop Hermann, still shaking, a bit sticky with both sweat and cum. 

“Hermann,” he says, a singular stand-alone statement more than anything meant to be strung into a sentence. Hermann shudders pleasantly beneath him, letting himself relax as Newton stills and softens in him. He pulls out gingerly, collapses beside Hermann, and stretches an arm out to pull him into his chest. Newton kisses the top of Hermann’s head, pets his hair clumsily. Hermann, exhausted, tilts his head up and kisses his pink cheek. He should most likely shower, pull Newton in to join him, but his limbs feel rather like wet noodles.

“We’ve made quite the mess, haven’t we?” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> for maria and gaby who in addition to being great friends have encouraged me to write this bc let's be real, it's what hermann deserves
> 
> catch me on twitter @kaijubf!!


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